


As long as you love me so..

by messyfeathers



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil Is Not Described, Cecilos Fluff, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Snow, Snowball Fight, WTNVSS, Winter, fluff and minor disasters - as is the night vale norm after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5482151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messyfeathers/pseuds/messyfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And now, listeners, back to the developing story on the strange orbs in the sky..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	As long as you love me so..

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aluminumoxynitride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aluminumoxynitride/gifts).



> ...let it snow!
> 
> Written for the Night Vale Secret Santa! I had so much fun writing this (especially since we had our first snowfall where I'm at as soon as I started working on it!) and I hope you enjoy!! :)

"And now, listeners, back to the developing story on the strange orbs in the sky. Larry Leroy - out on the edge of town - has given the following statement regarding the situation: 'The time of judgement has finally come. This plague will bring upon us swift retribution for our many past sins, Night Vale. Run. Run towards empty hope; run from dreadful consequence. Run. Run. _Run_.' He gave this statement in the form of a murmured whisper that then dissolved into broken - albeit slightly melodramatic - sobs, before continuing to lip sync passionately to The Kinks' 1983 hit single, ' _Come Dancing_ '.

"Night Vale, I do not know what is upon us. When I asked my boyfriend Carlos, he merely replied in a cryptic string of smiling faces and coy flirtation that it would be frankly unprofessional for me to read aloud. That's a thing about scientists - though they may be incredibly handsome and resourceful and wonderful at cooking eggplant parmigiana, they do not communicate directly. So...I can honestly say that I don't know what's coming next. I can only hope that we will be safe again, someday.

"And since I hate an unfinished story, I will leave you with at least the closure of the familiar - a singular phrase to cling to as we journey together toward the unknown: goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight."

Cecil waits until the ' _ON AIR_ ' sign flickers out to gather his things and check his phone. There's a new text from Carlos containing an emoji of a kitten wearing a small frog hat while chewing happily on a slice of cantaloupe. It's a form of shorthand for them - this particular message meaning that Carlos has come to pick him up from work. Cecil hurries from the booth, pausing briefly to pay his respects to the charred outline of Intern Zee in the supply closet. He didn't actually know them well, but it's always better to be in good standing with vengeful ghosts in the event that their spirit should haunt the station. After all, Cecil muses, disintegration by Station Management wouldn't exactly be his ideal way to go either.

He's proud of himself and the way he nimbly dodges the intruding particles that crowd the air all around him as soon as he steps outside the station doors. A half-dozen of the invaders cling to the shoulders of his knit poncho, but he manages to dislodge them before any permanent damage sets in.

"Over here!" Carlos calls, waving enthusiastically from the opposite end of the parking lot. To Cecil's horror, the scientist has ignored all the recommendations he gave during the show for protective gear. Instead Carlos is wearing a comfortable flannel and jeans, a lab coat, and a pair of old sneakers; no gas mask, no level-a protective body suit, no anti-possession talisman. Cecil dances his way through the still-descending plague and races toward his boyfriend. "I can't believe it's snowing!" Carlos laughs as Cecil's arms clasp tightly - protectively - around his shoulders.

"Snow?" Cecil asks, a puzzled wrinkle forming between his brows. "This isn't snow, Carlos. We've had snow before, and it's sharp and slimy and venomous." One of Cecil's hands leaves the scientist's back to prod at a few flakes of white that have gathered on the kitten ears attached to the hood of his poncho. "This isn't snow."

Carlos laughs again, the sound warm and sweet. "Of course it's snow! It's condensation that formed around dust particles high in the clouds and then precipitated down in frozen flecks. I always thought there was something magical about snow when I was growing up." The scientist tosses his perfectly-coifed hair, flinging small white bits down onto his equally-white lab coat. Cecil's nose quirks in a skeptical scrunch. Carlos reaches for his hands and pulls him towards the edge of the lot where the snow has begun to drift into deep waves reminiscent of the sand dunes that stand silent sentry out past the city limits. "Want to help me do some science in the snow before it all melts?"

Cecil nods enthusiastically at this offer. Carlos crouches and gathers a handful of snow. "I'm _very_ into science - as you know," Cecil bubbles, eagerly observing the scientist's motions.

"So right now we're testing the density," Carlos explains as he packs the snow together between his fingers. Cecil follows suit, carefully pressing his handful into a smooth ball. Carlos sighs as both their experiments fail to accumulate any considerable size when rolled through more snow. "It's not dense enough for a snowman." A mischievous smirk crosses his lips moments before he tosses the powdery remnants in his hands toward Cecil. "Guess it's time to test velocity!" He squeals and ducks away as Cecil reciprocates the motion.

By the time their velocity experiments are conclusive, their footprints dance around the entire perimeter of the lot, and both men are covered with a dusting of white that clings to thin jackets and exposed skin alike. With a residual chuckle Cecil lets himself fall back into the snowdrift to lie next to Carlos and watch the continued flurries drift down towards them from an aubergine sky.

"So what are we testing now?"

Carlos snuggles close, wriggling his way between Cecil's arm and his chest. "The speed of transference of body heat." Cecil loops his other arm around his boyfriend as well to hurry the process. His lips automatically find their way to the top of the scientist's mussed hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head.

The soft desert breeze scatters the flurries above them in a swirling dance, and Cecil decides that Carlos might be right - snow really _is_ something  magical.

A strange creeping sensation crawls up the scientist's sleeve where it rests atop Cecil's chest in tandem with a slight stinging that prickles against every damp part of his body, and Carlos decides that Cecil might be right - snow really _is_ something slimy and possibly venomous.

The danger sirens along Route 800 begin to sound in the distance, declaring the snowfall as a municipally-certified Disaster, and they both decide that the best course of action might be to pursue activities of a more indoor nature at this point.  
Indoors where there is hot cocoa and soft blankets and old movies.  
Indoors where nothing cold and magical and venomous and creeping is falling incessantly from above.  
Hopefully.


End file.
